


Smother

by SadCalad



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: A visit, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 02:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadCalad/pseuds/SadCalad
Summary: Looking back, she could easily defend herself with that excuse. But in that startled instant she just wanted him to shut up, and to never utter those terrible words ever again.





	Smother

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ailime, who filled out Capcom's flat characters with me and was a lovely companion.

The silence of the room was wailing at her, the unwelcome guest. But it didn’t stop her from imagining the opposite, how each of these rooms once held their individual unrealistic illusion, standing hollow and awaiting her arrival. When she opened the door to his grey-sheeted bed, she remembered untimely the way he was caught in a nightmare: arms thrown, sheets dampened into black waters with cold sweat.  
  
He struggled against the vortex and drowned that night, suffocating in the heavy summer air. She watched, and learned much about him. He wore anxiety like an old shirt. He had many old shirts.  
  
Anger was her old friend. She didn’t have many friends. Now it was hard to believe that those shirts were hers by right. His instructions had been clear about excluding the things that bore no personal mark, as if he had anticipated the things she wouldn’t need, the things she wouldn’t want. This was what made her angry. He was much too meticulous that way, but meticulousness couldn't save him from a flying bullet; he had to fall in her most unexpected moment. That was another thing that made her angry. She had a haunting feeling that all these occurrences led back to a single bullet in 1998. That was what made her furious the most.  
  
She lowered herself face down onto the soft grey sheets, and the mattress dipped to swallow her in. Hence she fell into the dreams of its former owner, and soon heard her own voice calling from six feet under. He must have heard it too, on that midsummer night. Why else would he call out her name, and cause her to lose her composure.  
  
There was nothing more dangerous than waking a dreaming person; maybe she could calm him down somehow. Looking back, she could easily defend herself with that excuse. But in that startled instant she just wanted him to shut up, and to never utter those terrible words ever again. Her palm clamped down. She felt him struggle. Erratic breathing fought to escape from tight fingers.  
  
He really did fall silent, in the end.  
  
Her knees were half-sunken in the sheets. It felt like murder.  
  
What a horrible end it was, that she had the same bed to herself. She was in rage that his life wasn’t at her disposal, and swallowing her guilt of allowing that anger. The only way of remorse was to bury herself into a pillow and try to simulate what he’s been through over the years, smothered by her presence. In the darkness she would meet her creators, and they would all agree that she was a selfish person. She would not fold his shirts, nor would she plant flowers on his grave. She was scared that he would open his eyes, wake up from a suffocating dream, and ask her what she was doing. She would have no choice but to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Smother by Daughter. Also inspired by unpredictable yet inevitable deaths. 
> 
> Comments much appreciated :D


End file.
